


lights will guide you home

by hissingmiseries



Series: liv & rob [1]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Fluff, Future Fic, Gen, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:51:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8361790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hissingmiseries/pseuds/hissingmiseries
Summary: Robert finds out that Liv has never been to Blackpool, and is determined to fix that little issue.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is nothing but tooth-rotting fluff to make up the lack of hug between Rob and Liv in Friday's episode. Plus I'm in Blackpool right now and I couldn't help but imagine it all.

"You've never been to Blackpool? _Seriously_?"

Rob looks incredulous, peering over the morning newspaper with scrunched-up eyes and a crease in his brow. Liv pauses, the flow of the conversation halted and even now, after all this time, the sudden sharpness of Robert's voice is unfamiliar enough to throw her. Aaron just looks between them like he's watching a game of tennis. He's smiling. Liv scowls.

"No," she mumbles, looking down at her half-eaten bowl of cornflakes. How the conversation even moved to this topic, she can't remember; something about the mention of lights, of the town being drenched in colour for a month or two and how the television blared just how much of a necessity it is to  _get down to the coast_ and  _see the Blackpool Illuminations now!_  "Doubt 'm missin' much."

"Nah, Blackpool's a laugh," Aaron replies, swinging his feet up on the coffee table with a careless attitude but still checking to make sure he leaves no marks. Nobody is immune to Chas' early-morning, caffeine-driven wrath. "Mum took me to see the lights when I were a kid. Went up the Tower and everythin'."

"The Tower was closed when I went," Robert says, flipping the page. "Something about safety concerns."

"Did ya ever get to go to t'Pleasure Beach?"

"Yeah, but we barely ate for a week afterwards. Damn thing was expensive even back then."

Now it's Liv's turn to watch tennis, listening to the trivial back-and-forth between her brother and his... well, now his  _fiance_. That's unfamiliar to her as well. The Aaron she had met first, the scruffy lad in a tracksuit who she'd tried so desperately to impress, would never have been seen dead with a ring on his finger, and now he can barely tear his eyes from the bloody thing. Just a silver band, the simplest item in the window display. It looks almost plain on Robert, but maybe that's because Liv associates him with wealth, with the finest things in life, and yet he's sat in the back room of the pub, clinging onto luxury by the corners of the _Financial Times_ in his hands. Aaron bought _The Sun_  and laughed at the write-in columns. She tried to read the chapters of Jekyll and Hyde she'd been set by school, and quickly threw it aside.

"What's so special 'bout Blackpool?" she asks, more to Aaron. She's not curious, per se, but anything's better than stagnant silence. The answers come back from both men in quick succession.

"The lights."

"Fish 'n' chips, mate. You've not lived 'till you've tried Blackpool fish 'n' chips."

"I thought that was Whitby?"

"Never been to Whitby."

" _You've_ not lived, then."

She sinks back in her chair and sighs. Third wheel doesn't even begin to cover it.

"We'll 'ave to go one day," Aaron suggests. It sounds more like a throwaway comment than anything, one of those pipe dreams that never gets fulfilled, and Liv doesn't let herself get too excited. God knows how she'll get the time off school, what with her attendance already languishing in the sixties. 

Aaron's already back to watching Jeremy Kyle, mocking the shell suit-wearing car crashes that are on stage, the idea already out the window. Robert's nose is buried back into the newspaper. She looks down at the cornflakes that have since disintegrated in the milk and forces them down. Their mornings are never very eventful; just familial.

 

x

 

Émile calls around lunchtime.

Liv's often been warned by both the men in her life to keep her beak out of work arrangements, but when Aaron walks in around lunchtime, speaking bastardised French into the phone, she can't help but ask.

"He's a scrap contact," Robert explains, voice hushed. Aaron's in the corner, pacing back and forth and attempting to say _quel est le salaire?_ without a hint of an accent. "Remember when he went off to France a while ago? He was going to see him."

"Careful," Liv says. "He might get comfy over there."

Rob smirks, but she can tell that she's touched a nerve somewhere. That's another thing that shakes her about Robert - he's unreadable to her, a blank page. She has no idea what reactions to expect.

There's a triumphant flourish when Aaron gets off the phone, turning to them and positively glowing with the news that he's been summoned back to Calais. Robert's glowing too, with pride for his fiancé, whereas Liv, though just as proud, lets her eyes drop to the floor. Another week stuck with the Dingles who she doesn't know, the rougher ones she hasn't had the courage to approach yet; that Cain guy, the one with the square jaw, and the strange-looking one with the bald head. She's expressed it to Aaron before, in the hopes that maybe he'll introduce her round, but it's always been brushed off with a chuckle and a ruffle of her hair.

She loves her brother, but my god, he can be dense at times.

"Not comin' with me this time, then?" she hears Aaron ask, and Robert shakes his head. 

"I'm on babysitting duty, aren't I?" 

They both look over to her in perfect synchronisation, and she scrunches her nose up at them. The laughs come easy.

The hotel they book is the same one he always stays in ("I think the receptionist 'as a thing for me."), even managing to bag the same room as last time, and when Aaron's disappeared out of the room to tell Chas the good news, Robert's shoulders fall in time with his laptop lid. All the air escapes his lungs, and Liv can empathise; as stark as their differences are, Aaron's the thread that keeps them together. He keeps the corners of their smiles turned upwards. 

"Looks like it's just me and you then, kid," Robert says, throwing a small but bright smile her way. It's bright enough for Liv to return it. "Oi, no quad bikes this time."

The memory of joyriding and Paddy sheathed in sheep muck comes to mind. It had been worth the lecture she'd received.

"What am I supposed to do, then?" she frowns, arms folded across her chest. Robert gives her a pointed look, silently letting her know that yes, he will tell Aaron everything and no, she shouldn't trust him to keep his mouth shut.

Liv sighs. Aaron may be her brother, but Robert feels more like a dad.

Not that she'd ever tell him that.

"Well, it's half term, isn't it?" he says after a moment of thinking. "We could go out somewhere." Liv does her best not to roll her eyes; her idea of fun is probably miles from Robert's. She pictures him dragging her to museums, stately homes, car shows. The only cars she likes are the crumpled frames that she gets to destroy at the scrapyard.

The television blares again, a picture of lights and candyfloss and a circus. The advert is unbearably cheesy, complete with an over-enthusiastic voiceover and establishing shots of artificially blue skies and sea, but it catches both of their attentions with an explosion of music.

_Get down to the coast. See the Blackpool Illuminations now!_

They glance at each other.

Maybe one day.

 

x

 

"You wanna take her  _where_?"

Chas never has time to spend now that Charity's gone, but the pub is in a lull and there's nothing better to do than natter to her future son-in-law. There's a bowl of salted peanuts between them and Robert's bought them both a drink. He knows her regular now - a glass of red. She knows his - a pint of Peroni. There are some aspects of middle-class life you can't beat out of him, and posh lager is one of them.

"Blackpool," he says, classily wiping the foam from his lips. "I just thought, y'know, the lights are on this time of year and what with it being half-term... bad idea?" He trails off, Chas' smirk unnerving him, but she shakes her head and picks a peanut from the bowl.

"No, a day out will probably do 'er some good," she says. "Can you an' 'er go a whole day without killin' each other?"

Robert smiles, amused. "Has she warmed up to me yet?"

"Well, she's not kneeing you in t'nads anymore," she points out. The circumstances of Robert's first encounter with his terror of a step-daughter have been recounted to Chas more than once. She laughs every time. "That's an improvement."

"Seriously, though," he says after a chuckle, his voice adopting _that_ quiet tone. "Should I do it? Or should I just wait for Aaron to come back, because I'm not-"

"Take her out," Chas interrupts. "She'll love ya for it. Besides, every kid needs a chance to go to Blackpool."

"They do," he nods in agreement. "Aaron mentioned you taking him once." 

"Oh, god yeah." A dopey smile comes across her face, one of recognition and reminiscence. "He could barely toddle, I'm surprised he remembers. It was before me and Gordon split up." The mention of his name dampens the atmosphere, as it does whenever any sign of him rears up, and the arrangement of the nuts against the cheap porcelain suddenly becomes interesting. "His little face lit up when we went up the Tower, bless 'im. We went to the circus too - this were back when clowns weren't creepy - and I even managed to stretch to a bag o' doughnuts at the end o' the night."

The image of toddler Aaron grasping onto his mum's hand with a face full of sugar and childish amusement has both of them glowing; Chas with nostalgia, Robert with the thought that they have all this ahead of them.

"My mum took me and Andy after Vic was born," Rob explains. "We couldn't afford it, but that didn't stop her. Andy was sick after going on the Pepsi Max."

Robert's sure he remembers that day more than Andy does, or at least with a fonder smile. It's not a day easily forgotten; he hasn't been back for years, and though he's heard enough people slagging it off for the traffic or the shoddy B'n'Bs or the sickly brown tint of the sea, Blackpool holds a special place in his heart. It's the place where he thrashed Andy on the hook-a-duck pier game and a seagull swooped down and stole the flake from his ice cream. It's also the place where he rocked the carriage of the Ferris wheel and nearly gave his brother a heart attack. 

"What do ya wanna do, then?" Chas says, straightening up as the girls from the factory start to pile in through the door.

"What day is it today? Sunday? I might take her up tomorrow if she's up for it."

Chas nods, unable to hide the grin that crosses her face.  _Soppy git._

 

x

 

"Blackpool?"

Liv's perched at the kitchen table, a carpet of school books laid out in front of her. (It's algebra, so she's getting nowhere with it, but Robert's the only person who manages to get her to look twice at her homework.) Robert's lingering near the couch, hands thrust into the pockets of his jackets, transferring his weight from foot to foot like he does when he's nervous.

"Yeah," he nods, smiling at her hopefully. "If you want to. I mean, it sounds more fun that being stuck here all week doing your maths homework, right?"

She hesitates - you know, just long enough to make it look convincing. Toying with Robert is still a hobby of hers.

 

x

 

"'ow long's the drive gonna be?" 

It's midday, a rare October sun cutting through the fog, and Robert's busy tapping postcodes into the sat-nav whilst Liv shivers in her hoodie. 

"About an hour and a half," he replies, slotting into the driver's seat and pulling the seatbelt across him. "Down the M62 if the traffic's good."

They're in Robert's car, the vintage silver Porsche that Liv's always secretly liked, and the engine growls as they set off. She grows fidgety barely ten minutes into the journey, especially when they run straight into a column of traffic, and takes the time to go exploring in the glove compartment. There's nothing interesting in there - paperwork, half a packet of chewing gum, lottery pens; she's about to give up when she finds a photo tucked beneath the CD wallet. 

"Is this from when we went t'beach?" she frowns, pulling it out into the light, and Robert goes a funny shade of pink.

"Yeah," he nods. A car horn blares somewhere behind them. "Forgot it was in there."

Liv bites back a smile.  _Course you did_.

 

x

 

Blackpool smells like chips and salt, Liv finds. 

Robert spends ages finding a backstreet car park, one hidden by rundown hotels and grimy cafes, and he spots the look of confusion on his stepdaughter's face at the greyness of it all.

"It's a bit rough round the edges," he explains, almost apologetically, and she huffs in agreement. "Wait until we get into the centre."

Liv's learned to live her life skeptically. The sea brings a biting wind and the backstreets are dull and square and lifeless, aside from the odd wild car that goes screaming past. They make a habit of following signposts but each step brings more boring surroundings, and when they reach an underpass that sinks below a multistory complex, Liv's about ready to turn back and head home.

"Tide's in," Robert comments, a brightness to his voice. 

Liv looks up, and an expanse of green spreads out across the horizon, a brushstroke of colour, beckoning her forward. Streaks of orange and brown and yellow underline it, flats of sand upturned by couples and families and dogs catching frisbees. The sun's a coin in the sky, soaking the street in blinding light, and the true brightness of Blackpool comes to life before her eyes.

"It's big," is her first comment. 

"It sure is," Robert says, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. It's powerful today, unusually so - and not a cloud in the sky to soften it.  "It's been done up since I came, as well."

"Weren't that about thirty year' ago?" she says, and when she receives no reply, she looks up to see Robert squinting at her. There's a smile in his eyes.

"Right. Where d'we start?"

 

x

 

They hit the arcade first.

Coral Island is a retro maze, parked on the main street corner, a giant skull and crossbones grinning down on the passing tourists. Inside is entirely golden, dripping in neon and the whirring of coins falling from the slot machines. A ride snakes its way above the restaurant section, driving laughing toddlers through the air. 

Liv's never played a slot machine before. Robert's alarmed to hear it.

"Never?" he repeats, eyebrows shooting up. The lady in the booth accepts his fiver and passes back five circular tubs, the plastic bending under the weight of the coppers. He takes them and pours them into two separate cups, thrusting one over to her. "You've never played a 2p machine?"

"Nope." The game looks simple enough; shove the coins through the slots until they tip over the edge, hopefully bringing a prize with them. The 10p machines glitter silver, housing watches and bracelets and cheap bling, whilst the 2p machines are more humble - keyrings, more than anything, or a strip of tickets for the prize counter. "I'm guessing ya just..." She gestures towards a cluster of children huddled around one of the machines, happily feeding it with coins.

"Pretty much," Robert nods. He looks even more golden in this light.

Ten minutes later and Liv can see why people get addicted to this type of stuff.

She must be down to her last pound - with no keyring, much to her dismay. The machine that she's picked has been kind to her, spitting out more coins just as she's about to give up, but they're just not falling where she needs them to. Her sights are set on a little Coral Island keyring that's balanced on the very edge, the metal chain anchoring it in its place. It's cheap and tacky but it's perfect in her eyes.

In all the noise and the crowds, she's completely lost Robert, who is probably running around like a headless chicken looking for her. He finds her eventually, his shoulders visibly moving in relief, and squeezes past a group of kids to join her. His cup looks fit to burst with the volume of coins inside.

"Are you winning?" he asks cheerily, looking into the machine.

"I'm tryin' to get that one," Liv says, pointing at the keyring. It's so close, unbearably close, and she shoves another coin in. It drops like a stone and clatters along the shelf, making no difference.

"Here, let me try," Robert offers. "There's a technique to this kind of thing."

He holds the coin above the slot, waiting for the shelf to fully draw in before dropping it. There's a loud clatter as a mountain of coppers tumble over the edge, falling into the tray for her to collect. The keyring remains, laughing at them from behind the glass, but it's an inch closer now and they're both sure that a light breeze could blow it over.

"So ya wait for the thing to go fully in?" she asks, pointing at the moving tray. Robert nods, and she drops another coin. The rows shift forwards. The keyring topples.

Huh. Turns out there is a technique to this.

She celebrates with a triumphant "Yes!", face lighting up like the night sky and as she crouches down to pick the prize up, she can feel Robert's grin shining down. It's that famous grin, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes, the one that makes Aaron melt like some lovesick puppy whenever he sees it, and he's proud of her.

Liv smiles. She's not used to people being proud of her.

"Are you going to try for that one?" Robert points at another keyring, a cardboard frog with wide cartoon eyes. She looks down at the one in her hands - it's textured and the colours are already flaking off but she doesn't care.

"Can we try for the 10p machines?" she asks instead, giving him her best pleading look, and Robert raises an amused eyebrow.

"Nice try, Liv," he scoffs. "I'm not made of money."

 

x

 

Bonny Street Market looks more like Leeds than a seaside town, and the overhead circling of seagulls is the only thing that reminds Liv how close they are to the coast.

Still, she's never seen a market so alive and vibrant. Even if it is mostly cheap knick-knacks being sold.

They both pick things up; Liv gets a funny t-shirt for her brother, singles out a new phone case and a watch to add to the collection she's been working on. Robert corners the more serious clothes store, raking through the shirts that make Liv cringe, before buying half of the DVD store and a few photo frames for the snapshots he's been taking on his phone. Liv knows she's the star of some of them. She'll make him delete them when she can.

The Tower looms above them in the distance. She eyes in curiously, spots the people at the very top looking down on the scene, small as ants. Robert spots them too.

"You're not scared of heights, are you?" he asks, a paper cup of coffee in his hand. Liv shakes her head. "Great, cause I bloody am."

A smirk creeps across her face. She's never wanted to be up that Tower faster.

 

x

 

"There never used to be a flaming _glass floor_ ," Rob moans, going pale.

They're about one hundred and fifty metres up, pacing back and forth along the glass walkway of the Tower. Or at least Liv is. Robert's staying near the centre where the floor is actually opaque, arms folded firmly across his chest with the brochure in one hand.

Beneath her feet, the town stretches out for miles, disappearing into the distance. The sea is blue (which apparently is a rarity in Blackpool - they must have caught a lucky day), foaming at the edges, lapping at the join of the beach where kids run back and forth amongst the approaching waves. Three or four promenades wade out into the water, one of them boasting a Ferris wheel and a rollercoaster, and the roof of Coral Island, painted with a giant skull and crossbones, looks up at her with a smile. Mounds of green sit in the far horizon; the brochure says it's the hills of the Lake District.

The walkway by the sea has been painted to look like newspaper clippings, each one legible from this height, and as Liv walks round, trying to read each line through the floor, she can feel Robert tensing with every step.

"Come on, ya wuss," she says, tugging at his coat with a grin. The look of pure fear on his face is too funny to not exploit.

"No chance."

"Come _on_! It's not like it's gonna break!" she challenges, emphasising her point by finishing it with a massive jump into the centre of one of the glass panes. Robert flinches like he's just been burned, and Liv can't help but laugh. "What would Aaron be sayin' if he were here?"

"I imagine he'd be taking the piss just as much as you are," he replies, but there's no hostility to it. His smile unfurls, slowly but surely. It's infectious.

"Not comin' up to the top deck, then?" The spiral of stairs leads them up to the very top viewing deck, where there's no glass but instead only netting separating them from the outside world. The wind rushes in, wrapping strands of Liv's hair around her face, but the sea looks so blue and there's a horse and carriage trotting along the road beneath them and the pier is alive with noise. 

She whips her phone out and takes a few pictures, sending a selfie to her brother with the caption  _We're up the tower and Robert's scared xx_.

He replies with  _Ur having a good time then?_

Liv smiles to herself.  _Yeah xx_. 

 

x

 

Autumn brings a premature night. It's around four when clouds start to roll in, darkening the world, and the sun starts to sink in the following hour.

They've exhausted the seafront of shops. Each and every one, Liv's turned inside out, from the sweet stalls to the souvenir shops. Her pockets feel heavy with the fridge magnets and badges and little statues she's purchased. They haven't ventured onto the beach yet, but when they emerge from a bric-a-brac store and see the sand almost entirely consumed by the ocean, Robert's attention shifts over to the arms of the piers.

"There's three promenades," he explains as they cross the road. Liv's thumbing through the brochure, reading up everything about them. "North, South and Central. They really get going when it gets dark and the lights come on, but there are some good views."

In the end, they choose the central pier - mostly because they're both knackered and in need of a drink.

The walk's extensive, and the sunset seems to have called everyone to the foot of the pier where the view really is a picture. Liv's never seen a proper sunset before. She's watched it from her window, seen the sun sink behind the sprawling hills of Yorkshire, but never this up close, never above the sea. The clouds part at just the right time, revealing the sun in its whole, splashing golden paint across the green sea. The fence that separates them from the ocean is small but sturdy, and Liv leans against it, feeling the wind flush her cheeks red.

Robert joins her, just as mesmerized. "Not a bad view, is it?"

"Not 'alf," she replies, the amazement clear in her voice. If only Aaron were here with them.

They both snap photos before finding a picnic bench. Robert disappears for a minute before returning with coffees for them. There's syrup in hers, sweet and sticky, and she wonders how he knows her coffee order so precisely despite the fact she's never told him.

"I'm observant," is his answer when she asks. That must be how he pulled Aaron, she decides. Knowing his drink order. It's not like they've ever told her how they met.

The wind picks up again, dragged in from the sea, and it cuts right through Liv's ratty hoodie to the bone. She must shiver, because before she knows it Rob's whipped his coat off and is offering it to her, despite the fact his blue shirt looks barely able to keep out a summer breeze. 

"Ya sure?" she frowns, and he's insistent. 

How people could ever call Robert selfish is beyond Liv.

The village says an awful lot about it; they've called him every name under the sun. Liar, selfish, they say he got away with murder sometimes. She doesn't see it. Every time she's seen Robert lie, he's gone pink and stuttered and examined the floor like there's buried treasure under it. He's hardly selfish; he saved her brother. As for the murder thing... maybe it's an attempt to muddy his name. Maybe some stones are best left unturned.

His coat smells like faded cologne. It's unexpectedly comforting.

 

x

 

They wait until the sun's fully gone. It doesn't take long, and soon the strings of fairy lights wrapped around the bars of the pier brighten, dyeing the atmosphere all sorts of different colours. The main strip of lights isn't on yet, but Robert tells her to brace herself, as they'll be more than she could ever expect.

Everywhere smells like cooking doughnuts, and as the fairground stalls come to life with activities and attractions, more people pile onto the pier until the boards start to creak dangerously beneath them. 

Now it's Robert's turn to take the mick out of Liv's worried face.

"Don't fall in," he grins when they get pushed towards the edge, jolting her shoulders, and is met with a rough shove and a bitten back smile. 

Between the waltzer and the dodgem rink is where Robert smacks his head into a banner. Neither of them see it coming - especially Robert, who stumbles backwards like he's just seen his life flash before his eyes - and Liv has no problem laughing her head off at the look on his face. It's not until they're being approached by a smiley woman in an apron that they realise what the banner actually says. 

It's childish, the font loopy and cartoonish, obviously aimed more at the youngsters of the pier. In swirly letters reads something about a free milkshake being given to anybody whose dad can reach the banner with his forehead, and as the woman stands in front of them, drinking in the matching blonde hair and green eyes, it clicks with both of them just what's being suggested.

Robert's eyes widen, looking down at Liv with uncertainty.

Liv looks back at up at him, pausing for a second before adopting that cheeky smile that reminds him so much of Aaron it almost sends Robert dizzy.

She chooses strawberry.

 

x

 

"Liv. Liv, look."

Robert points at the road. They're following the seafront walkway, Liv drowning in Robert's coat, Robert freezing but not caring. She turns, following his hand, and sees the tram chuntering alongside them. It's not the same dull white vehicle she saw passing them earlier; now, it's sheathed in coloured lights, designed to look like a steam engine and glowing like magic against the night sky. Another one follows it, lit to look like a steamboat chugging above an invisible sea.

"The proper lights will be on soon."

"Do they all look like that?" Liv asks, unable to tear her eyes from the scene. She's bought a beanie with tabs and a teddy bear face and it's warm on her ears. They're sharing a tray of Harry Ramsden's chips between them, slathered in salt and ketchup.

"Most of them," Robert replies, eyes gliding along the street in search for the others. One in the distance looks like a rocket, and ahead of it, another steam engine lights up and begins its journey.

The golden mile becomes truly golden when Liv's busy licking ketchup off her fingers.

She notices the tower first, a beacon of rainbow with a pulsating pink heart in the centre. Then she sees the street light up, sees the blue strings of bells and the twists of red and green and the Blackpool Eye on the pier glowing yellow, and the breath escapes her lungs.

"It's amazing," she says, and Robert's smile is almost as bright as the lights.

 

x

 

They walk along the sea, hands in their pockets, occasionally brushing elbows as the pavement grows more crowded, and Liv can tell that Robert's absolutely freezing.

"Ya can 'ave your coat back, if ya want," she says, moving to shrug it off, but Robert smiles and shakes his head.

"Keep it," he says. "It suits you."

Even Liv has to admit that he's right.

Blackpool looks like something out a fairytale, and she can't resist taking enough photos to fill her phone storage; every angle, every time the lights change colours she takes a picture. Rob's busy with his camera too, at first mocking her for wearing her battery out but soon falling trap to capturing each moment in time.  

"We should get a picture of us together, in front of the Tower or something," he suggests, voice changing like he's walking on eggshells, like it does every time he suggests something vaguely familial to Liv. He obviously still expects her to bite back with some rude remark, the way she always used to.  "Aaron would like it." Instead, much to his surprise, she switches her phone to the front-facing camera and stands beside him.

He has to crouch to even fit in the frame, much to Liv's amusement, but then she feels his arm around her shoulders and she practically melts into it.

Never in her life would she ever expect to be taking a selfie with her brother's fiancé. However, it is a nice photo. Liv's wearing her beanie and Robert's hair's all touselled by the wind and they're both wearing easy grins, natural ones that reach their eyes.

She sends it to Aaron. He doesn't reply for a good ten minutes, but when he does, it's a simple  _You both look great x_.

Robert's phone buzzes too, and when he reads the text, his face lights up again. Liv doesn't know what it says, but she can guess.

 

x

 

The conversation somehow turns to wedding planning when they near the end of the mile.

"So are you becomin' a Dingle, or is 'e becomin' a Sugden?" she questions. "Or 're ya... what's it called, double-barrellin' it?"

"No idea, to be honest," he says with a shrug. "Which do you prefer?"

"I dunno." The lights above their head turn icy blue, looking like falling stalls. "'e's only just become a Dingle, but Robert Dingle doesn't sound right- no offence. Aaron Sugden 'as a nice ring to it."

"It does, doesn't it?" Robert smiles, that dopey smile she sees far too often. That in love smile.

"What 're you doin' for your stag nights? Gettin' the strippers in?" She grins cheekily, and Robert doesn't have the self-control to be stern in that moment. 

"Can you imagine? Aaron would kill me."

"I was talkin' about Aaron."

"Oh, yeah, I can totally see Aaron with the Chippendales in," he laughs, the image absurd for both of them. "It'll probably be in the Woolpack or we'll go into town and get bladdered."

"Ya can't 'ave your stag night in the pub!" she exclaims. "Not that close to 'ome, anyway. Go into Leeds, drag 'im to the casino or somethin'."

"You're not coming with either of us, before you get any ideas," Robert laughs, directing them both around a corner and into the backstreets. The colour bleeds away, replaced with that old cell-block grey as they approach the car park. His Porsche glints in the streetlight.

"I can't believe you're gettin' married," she says when they slot into the car seats, the dashboard lighting up red. Robert pauses, unsure of what she means, and Liv's quick to correct herself. "It's awesome that you are. I just... remember when I 'ad to lock ya both in a room with beer an' curry to get ya to talk to each other?"

"Yes, fondly," he smirks. "But we're past all that now, Liv. We've got our future ahead of us. We'll be moving out the pub soon - yes, you're coming with us, don't worry - and he's trying to convince me to get a dog but that's definitely not agreed yet."

Liv remembers Robert's reaction to Scrappy getting loose once at the scrapyard. She and Aaron still laugh at him about it today.

"What does that make me then? Your stepdaughter?"

They both pause, in sync, minds wandering to the same conclusion. It doesn't need to be said but they're both thinking it. Maybe one day, they'll make it official.

"I guess it does."

Robert grins at her, a picture of eyes and teeth and golden hair in the dark, and Liv grins back. 

She likes him more than she'll ever admit.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my [tumblr](http://hissing-miseries.tumblr.com) if you want to stop by and say hello! :)


End file.
